


Holes

by murdoke



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdoke/pseuds/murdoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A pwp in response to a prompt on the Sherlock kink meme. My first work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holes

**Author's Note:**

> The characters belong to the BBC.

John was scrambling for the loose change behind his dresser when he discovered the bullet hole in the floor—god knows how that got there—that let him see into Sherlock's room. John had a very nice view of most of the bedroom. He didn't really know what to do with this knowledge. Hmmm….

That night, the doctor and the detective retired to their respective bedrooms. As John stripped down to his boxers, he couldn't help but think if that little hole in the floor, just calling his name. He had a quick little argument with himself…and knelt down with is eye pressed to the bullet hole.

Sherlock knew John had discovered the bullet hole in the ceiling. Those little looks John had been giving him all day (well, more than usual) had tipped him off. Then there was the floorboard that squeaked ever so slightly when John knelt down. Oh yes, he knew the good doctor was watching, and he was determined to put on a good show.

John watched as Sherlock paced the room, slowly unbuttoning his shirt (that damn sexy purple shirt…) with those long thin fingers. Oh, what he wanted those fingers to do to him. Sherlock drew off his shirt and threw it over an armchair, revealing his pale chest. The detective ran his hands down his stomach, up, down again, pausing at the waist of his trousers.

Sherlock paused, wondering what to do next. He laughed silently to himself—he could hear John's breathing, and it had definitely gotten heavier. He unbuttoned his trousers and played with the zipper a moment, drawing it out, then pulled it down and slipped out, now wearing….

…only a tight little pair of boxer-briefs. Good god, thought John, he's exquisite. His breath caught as Sherlock's hands moved to pull down his underwear. And then the boxer-briefs were on the floor, and there was the full glory of Sherlock, standing at half-mast. The good doctor audibly gasped. He didn't hear it—

-but Sherlock did, and struggled to keep a straight face, acting as though everything was perfectly normal. Him getting off on his roommate getting off on him? Having some weird exhibitionist tendencies buried somewhere in there? Of course not. (He knew he was deluding himself, but even Sherlock—especially Sherlock—needs his delusions.) Well, though the detective, he might as well continue on from here…

John watched as Sherlock sat on the bed and brought his hands to his cock, stroking slowly, bringing it to full attention (ohmygod), those long fingers playing up and down the length. The detective closed his eyed and let his head all back, taking his good sweet time, moaning softly (how delicious his voice was when it went that deep).

And then John groaned , which just sent Sherlock right over the edge (somewhat to his surprise.) He went with it though, breathing heavily, running a hand over his chest, into his hair, dropping his voice as far as it could possibly go and moaning long and loud. The detective lay on the bed a moment, spent, and gazed on the ceiling. He then sent a wink and a smile to the bullet hole, laughing long and hard as he heard John scramble quickly away.


End file.
